Darkest Appeal
by Nyoka Li
Summary: Being reworked. Over the summer, Harry discovers a shoking secret that his parents may not be who he thought they werer. HPDM
1. Chapter 1

The Darkest Appeal

Disclaimer: Honestly people, it's not mine. I wish it was, but I also wish I was a pop singer named Cindy, but some things just won't happen.

Warnings: DarkHarry, Slash of the HP/DM kind and slight gore in later chapters. Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledor bashing. Just kidding.

Also, my stories are being heavily edited. In the last years, I really feel as though I've grown as a writer, so I'm redoing everything that I think is worth doing. Not so much in this story, but defiantly in my others.

**Prologue**

In the residence of Number Four Privit Drive, all was quite. If you went in the first bedroom, you would probably find a massive man lying next to his thin wife, snoring loudly. In the next room a giant of a boy was fast asleep, dreaming of his non-existent girlfriend. In the last bedroom in the house, where, years ago, you would have heard screaming if he had gone through the very dream, there was a small boy, lying in a tiny bed, smiling an extremely cruel smile. The dream was evil enough to send even the bravest Gryffindor screaming towards their mommy.

The boy looked nothing special, except for his eyes, the color of gemstones glittering in the moonlight. His hair, obviously messy, was spanned out over his pillow like the halo of an angle that he was not. Tanned muscles on the boy's chest rippled softly as he let out a deep laugh, amused at something that would send chills down other people's spines. His eyes flashed open.

My emerald eyes jerk open sleepily after yet another torture session featuring some mudblood that I really could not care less about. It would defiantly seem that our dear Voldemort is getting more vicious and brutal with each passing year. Now he's discovered the wonders of muggle torture methods. It's really quite entertaining. I sigh, thinking of the pain someone was no doubt in at this very moment. I suddenly have this urge to see that.

'And that thing Lucius Malfoy did with that knife last week. He practically carved wings in that mans back. It was beautiful. I should like to learn how to do that. I wonder if he'd teach me.' My eyes widen with the realization that such dark thoughts did not bother me in the least.

I wonder what that old coot Dumbledor would think of me now. I am, after all, Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, the golden boy of Gryffindor. And heaven forbid that I have any remotely dark thoughts.

I hate being Harry Potter. I've realized that all people have ever done is use me for their own ends. Weasley used me for public recognition. Granger, for a chance to get ahead in school. No one in their right minds would fail Harry potters best friend. Dumbledor used me to defeat Voldemort. Like I'd do that now, knowing what I do. Everyone else just assisted in the slow destruction of me. I'm beginning to think that I should have listened to Draco whilst I had the chance.

I know he wants me. I can feel his eyes on the back of my head all the time. I kind of like it. He intrigues me. Always has. Ever since in first year. I've always felt that I didn't belong in Gryffindor with all those goody two-shoes. And at the end of first term, I'd found out why. I really do belong in Slytherin by his side, like he offered all those years ago. I should have accepted. My father would have liked that. My father, my real father, is indeed alive and well. And evil, but that's just an added bonus.

It was true. The seed that Tom Riddle had planted in his mind in second year had taken its roots in my mind. The idea that he, Harry Potter, was somehow related to Voldemort was true.

It had been amazingly easy to figure the whole thing out. Apparently, every magical family had a family book. There were copies in the library, or so that mudblood Granger had said. I cringe. She's awful. Intrigued by her words however, I had set about finding my own book. To my immense surprise, it was not there, but carefully tucked in the headmasters office. I had seen an assortment of similar book in the there a few days after my search began. The bastard would not let me have it either. All it really took to get it was a carefully planned explosion that tore apart the greenhouses, and Dumbledor was off. Needless to say, it took a while for herbology class to get back up and running again.

Sneering evilly, I struggle to remember the night I had stolen the book. I knew it must have been something he didn't want me to see. Be that the case, he really should really think of a better password. Blood pops, honestly. Does the word creativity mean nothing? Then I hit the jackpot. My name was not in the Potter book. Confused, I had looked through the other books. The last book said 'Riddle'. I wanted to laugh out loud. There was little doubt in my mind as to why it was hidden. I flicked through it. It was then that something caught my eye.

Thomas Riddle had a thin line connecting him to Lily Evans. My mother. The line then followed down to a child that they had. Their only child was born July 31st, 1980. Lucien Loki Riddle.

After recovering from my shock ridden silence, I had smirked before shutting the book with a snap and tucking it under my arm

I sent a letter to me father, my real father. I realize now that it was a terribly Gryffindor thing to do, but I was at a loss of what to do. I'm supposed to meet him tomorrow at the Malfoy Manor.

A.N.

Not too much is different from the original, I know. I did change "Harry"'s name. Should I continue to call him Harry, or Lucien?


	2. Chapter 2

The Darkest Appeal

Disclaimer: Do you ever wonder why people have to put these on their stories? WE clearly don't own it. I wish I did, and I also wish that I owned Draco. But I've come to accept that something's aren't going to happen.

Warning: Dark!Harry. Oh, and DM/HP slash (as if that's a bad thing.)

The fifth and sixth books never happened- it goes against lily's history with James.

NOT AN UPDATE- I just got sick of looking at the mistake riddled piece of crap, so I'm doing some mild changes.

* * *

Chapter One- The picture of Evil

I strolled purposefully toward the Malfoy Manor. A part of me, a very small part mind you, was itching to tell me that this was a very bad idea. I brushed that thought away almost immediately. I'm rejoining my father, and planning to wreck havoc on the very world that sought to destroy me. What could possibly be wrong about that?

The extravagant manor sits upon a mossy hill, vines creeping up the ancient, Victorian style walls. Red rose bushes lines one side of the wide path while white roses line the other side. As it was still early morning, dew droplets sit on the short grass, giving the lawn a healthy glow to it. In the center of the huge courtyard, there is a fountain made of pure silver, carved into the shapes of ascending angels. 'Must of cost a fortune that must have, 'I silently note,' pretty though….'

I shudder slightly at that thought. I don't do pretty. Mean, yes, Evil, defiantly, but never pretty. I disgust myself. Strangely enough, all this talk of pretty things brings me to thoughts of Draco.

Surly I couldn't…no, why would I….I couldn't actually like him?

I shake my head quickly, black hair falling gracefully in my eyes. Of course I don't like Draco. The very thought! I just want him is all.

Suddenly, I find myself at the front door of the Malfoy's home. My little inner monologue took me all the way across the grounds. From the back, I can hear the shouts of excitement that only Quidditch can bring. Noticing the huge carvings on the door, as well as all the brass hangings, I am struck by the thought of how vain these people are, obviously showing off their vast stores of galleons. I lift the huge knocker and let it crash down on the oak door.

I wait impatiently for someone, anyone to answer the door. Tapping my foot upon the ground, my eyes narrow at being kept waiting. We Riddles were never patient people, my father being a prime example of that.

Finally, the door is opened a crack and a tiny, if not extremely ugly, house elf looks up at me with its wide, expressive brown eyes. They remind me of the mudbloods'.

"What can Cheffy do for you sir?" The pitiful creature murmurs.

I look down at it with disgust, before replying in a haughty tone. "I wish to speak to the lord of the manor and any guests that he may be hosting."

"Yes sir. Right away sir. Cheffy will tell them of your arrival. Was they expecting you, sir?"

"Yes" My answer is short, and to the point. Why would I waste my precious breath and time on such a low life form? I wouldn't.

The creature scampers away quickly, obviously extremely uncomfortable in my presence. It should be, for I am unsure why I even allowed the creature to bask in my presence.

Promptly, the house elf returns to the door, claiming that the lord Malfoy will see me now. Damn straight, he'll see me. Arrogant asshole. I may love Draco, but as of yet, I cannot stand his father.

I freeze where I stand. _LOVE?_ When did it become love? Certainly of my own accord. I simply cannot tolerate the theory of love. It is just a state of mind. Besides, I am the son of the greatest dark lord ever to walk the planet. I don't feel such plebian emotions such as love. Lust, maybe, but never love.

The house elf, Caffie, or something like that, leads me through the mansion, straight to the parlor. I sweep in, seemingly unaware that I am now surrounded by Death Eaters.

"Sooo…" My father begins slowly, pondering his next move. After all, an ill prepared Dark Lord is a stupid Dark Lord. Those are words to live by. Can't be unprepared, it's only an invitation to be taken advantage of.

"Let me see this book of yours, Mr. Potter, so we can see if your tale is a true one or just that, a tale…." I hand my father the leather bound book under my arm. I feel no fear towards this man, nor any ill will for the trouble he has caused me earlier in life. To my great surprise, he hands it to Lucius Malfoy, who quickly scans the pages. As he reaches the page I know to be my own branch of the family tree, his gray eyes widen in disbelief.

Father grins, causing the death eaters to flinch back. They are obviously not used to father smiling. It's all rather amusing. Dad ushers them all out of the room for our little talk. Normally, I would be very scared in these circumstances, but something is telling me that I won't be hurt so long as I'm with him. Although, I could be wrong.

"Forgive me my child, but my ignorant second would simply not accept the facts. I, however, know the truth. You only know a part of that truth, the part of your linage. Would you like to know how you became a Potter instead of taking your place in the Circle of Death Eaters like you were destined? Would you like me to tell you, my son?"

I nod wordlessly, too fascinated by what he is saying to me to actually respond like a normal human being. But, really, when have I ever been normal?

"Your mother was adopted into a muggle family after her parents, the Romanophs. They were a powerful family centered in West Russia . Very powerful. Very dark, as well. No one is really sure how they died, but it is suspected that they were assassinated for activity in the Dark Arts. Dumbledore took the only survivor and gave her to the Evans, a muggle family here in England . They raised her like their own daughter, unaware of her true heritage. She attended Hogwarts, and did fabulously. Prefect, Head Girl, straight A's, she did it all. Eventually, in her seventh year, Dumbledore told her the truth, that she was really the heir to a prominent dark family. Enraged at being lied to, much like you are now, she threw herself into the dark arts. After she left Hogwarts, she did the same as me, searched for power. We met and decided to team up to kill the man who had destroyed our lives. Eventually, something grew between us."

Here I had to stop him. "But father, aren't you so much…ummmm….well…" For the first time in weeks, I was completely unsure of how to phrase this so it would not seem insulting. In fact, it was the first time in weeks I had cared if something sounded insulting. I'm going too soft.

"Older?" He supplies. I nod quietly. Why do I feel like such a little child around him? "Yes, but love knows no such boundaries, I suppose. That is correct, I fell in love. Understand, Harry, that it's perfectly okay for a dark lord to fall in love." _'This man is reading my mind' _I think. I'm suddenly not so ashamed of my feelings toward the younger Malfoy.

"We got married, and began taking over the world. Those were best years of my life. Then she got pregnant. I didn't know, of course. Lily disappeared later on that month. I was devastated. I had all the death eaters out searching for her for nearly 2 years. It was Lucius who found her, Pettigrew told him. She …she was… married to James Potter."

At my shocked expression, he chuckled, even though this was clearly a difficult subject for him. "What, you thought that he got the place of my second for his brains? Malfoy may be cunning, but what he has in looks, he lacks in the... ahh…intellectual areas."

I've got to tell you, that grossed me out just a little bit. Having your father admit that another man is handsome when you want his son is not something you want to hear. Imagine yourself in my shoes. I visibly wince.

"We tracked them down on that fateful Halloween night. I killed James, thinking that he may have had a love spell on my Lily. As you know, love spells become void after the caster dies. I went up stairs. I then saw something that made my blood chill colder then it already was, if you can imagine. Lily didn't remember me. As far as she knew, I was just an evil Dark Lord after her life. I knew I had no choice but to kill her." Father speaks in a slightly defeated tone. I'm beginning to feel very sorry for him. I can only imagine what would happen if I had to kill Draco, for both our goods. How unfortunate.

Turning to father, I say the very thing I'm thinking. "I'm seeing a whole new side to you, dad. You fell in love, got married and she left. You really do have feelings. I've got to tell you, it's creeping me out."

He laughs. Not a chuckle, not a grin, but my father, Voldemort, laughed. And the amazing thing is, no one was about to be tortured or killed. It's a very good thing that his Death Eaters aren't here. They'd probably be petrified by this side of him. I'm also fairly certain that my mother and I are the only ones who have ever seen this side of him.

"Thank you Harry."

"You know what? I don't like that name. Lucien is a much better name." He nods, to distraught over the flashbacks he's no doubt receiving.

It's true. Harry just reminds me too much of my past life and the lies that have been told over the last sixteen years. I like the name Salazar. It pulses with power and will remind people of Salazar Slytherin, a great man. The name Harvarendo just scares me. What the hell were my parents thinking? No one, and I mean no one, would want to go by that name.

"Dad," I whisper. I'm now right up to his chair kneeling on the armrest. "If your story is true, how did I get this scar?"

"I'm not exactly sure. It might have been the house falling around you, could have been Dumbledore. I wouldn't rule that man out of this. The curse could have also rebounded off Lily and hit you, since she was holding you to the end. I miss her so much…."

I really don't know what to say. This man is so different from the, for lack of a better word, thing that I was expecting. I want to help him defeat the man that destroyed both our lives. I want to join his forces and dominate the world, with Draco by my side. You see, no matter what I'm thinking about, it all comes back to Draco. I want to see him, but I don't think I should leave.

We sit there for a long time, just talking about our lives, catching up on what we've missed since my birth. I still have more questions, but I think Father has suffered enough for today. It can wait.

I summon a house elf, the same disgusting creature from before. I tell it to summon the Death Eaters to dinner. Straightening my robes, I smirk at my father.

* * *

A.N.

Really still hate this story. What ever.


	3. Chapter 3

The Darkest Appeal

Nyoka Li

Disclaimer- Not mine, never was, never will be.

Again, this is not an update, but rather, an editing of a previosly hated story. This is probably the last chapter for this(I do have one more in the works that may get finished). If you like this stroy, be on the lookout for another of mine, **Monster. **It is also a darkharry, hp/dm slash based on the same basic idea, but it's much better. I'm almost done chapter one, so it should be out soon. Next week by my best guess.

* * *

Chapter 3

Out in the patio, I can finally spot the Quidditch game I earlier heard. My eyes follow the platinum blonde racing around with the quaffle under one arm. I'm so absorbed; I'm barely registering my father speaking to his death eaters.

"...and Lucien will then sneak in under Dumbledore's nose and steal…." That's all I hear before tuning him out once again. Let him believe that he can take control of me. But in the end, I'll do things my way. I'm no minion.

Yet again, I feel my eyes drawn to Draco, teasing his teammates with insane swerves and the like. One day, he'll get himself killed. But my watching this little show from all the way back here, when I can be right in the action?

"Father, I'm going down to the Quidditch game. I'm bored." It clearly wasn't a question. I'm going down and no one will stop me. Queue evil laughter. Not really, can't seem to be insane, although I'm doubting that myself. Father nods discreetly, motioning for several death eaters to follow me. Like I need a bodyguard.

I walk, no, strut down the lawn toward the game, perfectly aware that I'm being followed by the parents of the players. No doubt they're the ones told to tag along so no one would get tortured for disrespect. But I wouldn't hurt them. Much.

Finally, I come to a stop at the edge of the pitch. The players, noticing their parents' arrival, quickly land and discard the brooms, confusion etched on each and every face. Each parent silently moved forward to explain this little situation before things got too awkward.

Lucius Malfoy speaks to my Draco barely 5 feet behind me. Does the man think I'm deaf? But of course, being me, I decide to eavesdrop.

"…the Dark Lords' son. You will serve him as I serve my Lord; with loyalty, dedication, and obedience. Anything and everything he says, you will do without question."

A rather inappropriate thought enters my mind at this. '_He did say everything…' _I think, raking my eyes up and down Draco's body. It's exactly the way I remember it. Perfection.

He gulps as if he knows what I'm thinking. "Anything Dad? No….No, I can't. It's Potter! Have you lost your mind!"

Getting a little emotional there, my poor baby. I'll fix that later.

Lucius grows angry at this blatant display of disobedience. I for one really don't mind, since I like a little wild temper in my lovers. Clearly, Lucius has other ideas about my preferences.

Raising an eyebrow, he murmurs softly, though it obvious he is trying not to yell due to my close proximity.

"You're disobeying me?" He questions, voice little more then a whisper.

Fear races across Draco's face, before disappearing faster then it arrived.

"Well…I mean…that is to say…." The stuttering may be because there are two dark lords in the yard, or because of his fathers' anger. Frankly, the man scares me too, but it's not like I'm telling him that.

A sudden dash of courage takes him over. He straightens up, accepting the consequences of his next action. Sticking out his chin, he speaks one word, quietly, but quite bold just the same.

"Yes."

"I see," Lucius says. He turns around and begins to walk up to the manor, before evidently changing his mind. Quickly, so quick that I myself may have missed it if I had not been watching Draco so closely, he struck his son across the left cheek. Momentarily seized with shock, I could do nothing but gaze at the red handprint marring Draco's flesh.

Absolutely disgusted with his son, Lucius does everything but spit out his next words.

"The Lord and the Prince are in this very area. I will not allow you to disrespect me or the family name. You are my son and you will do as I say. I will not let you jeopardize everything I've ever worked for with your idiocy. Do you have any idea what's at stake here?"

He raises his hand again, as if to hit his now cowering son yet again. I immediately snap out of my shock at this movement, hand automatically shooting out my hand to grip Malfoys. Giving it a slight twist and squeeze, I can't help but feel slightly empowered at the look of intense fear and pain on his face.

"You, Mister Malfoy," I growl, throwing his hand to the side. "Are embarrassing your family name far more then your son ever could. My father will hear about this, rest assured."

He nods fearfully before high-tailing it back up to the patio and my father. I can feel Draco's gazing at my back, a mixture of confusion and gratitude in their depths.

Smirking, and feeling quite pleased with myself, I too head off to the manor, trudging up the hill, the wheels in my head turning with thoughts of how to manipulate my father into giving me exactly what I want.

* * *

Winding endless hallways, never-ending staircases, deep dungeons and doorways twice the size of Hagrid. Unfortunately for me, the Malfoy Manor is full of them.

As I reach my fathers chambers, I notice Lucius coming out of them. Grimacing slightly at the thought of what they could have possibly been doing, I walk up to the man, waiting patiently for him to finish shutting the grand oak door. Turning around, he jumps slightly, clearly not expecting to be seen. I raise my eyebrow lightly, a sneer coming across my face.

"My Lord Lucien." He murmurs before bowing and rushing quickly out of sight.

Pushing open the doors, I walk in.

"Father." I greet in a cool tone, bowing stiffly. If that man expects me to get on this filthy floor to kiss those robes, he's got another thing coming. They went out of style years ago. Poor fashion-blind father.

He sits regally in his seat without a clue as to what flies through my mind. At first, I don't think he hears me, for his eyes continue to stare out the window.

"Son…" he acknowledges my presence for no more then a moment before once again re-directing his attention out the window yet again. He was quite possibly the most pre-occupied man I'd ever seen.

"Father, as you're son, I'm entitled to anything you feel you can give, right?" He nods hesitantly, clearly not liking where this was going.

"I want Draco Malfoy as my slave." I say this simply, as if asking for a cookie. It's a different tactic I once read about. Perhaps if I ask for what I desire, with no explanation, he'll simply give it to me. As much as I dislike Lucius, Draco won't thank me if his father gets tortured because of me.

But I will have Draco. If I can get him easily, that's fine, perfect even. If I must resort to the less honorable way, which may involve the destruction of a reputation or two, so be it. I may not always get what I want, but this time, I will.

Father looks rather shocked for a moment before regaining his composure.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

AN Again, if you like this, be on the lookout for **Monster**- same idea, better story. And it makes more sense too!


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